


Another Life

by Driezai



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Royai Week, royaiweek15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 23:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4118491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Driezai/pseuds/Driezai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They go to great lengths to keep their relationship secret. Or: pure unabashed domestic fluff for Thursday, June 11 “Understanding". Post-promised day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Life

**Author's Note:**

> My first FMA fic! I don't have time to take part in the whole week of prompts, but I had an idea for today's and thought, why not? Also posted on tumblr.

To say it’s small is an understatement, since all two rooms can be covered in ten long strides, but it’s sparsely furnished and the windows are large and usually open, so it doesn’t feel too cramped. Riza still hasn’t asked Roy why he bought himself a second apartment after his promotion. She simply understands, just as she always does.

After a close call at Riza’s apartment, meeting at their respective homes seemed too dangerous to him. Luckily, it was only Breda to whom they had to explain why they were alone together so late at night, but there were a number of ways that encounter could have been catastrophic and neither of them fancied explaining themselves to Roy’s superiors.

Instead, they’d spent their brief shared time in hotel rooms. Roy quickly found, though, that no matter how expensive the room or how pleasant the location, there was something about them that made the whole thing seem sleazy.

So he found an alternative.

At first the place smelled of dust, cobwebs decorating the corners of bare walls that echoed their footsteps. But moving a little spare furniture and a few belongings into the apartment is almost like moving home, and it brings the same feeling of starting afresh. This time when contacting each other, they leave messages under pseudonyms, hiding dates and times in fake numbers or addresses. They never need an explanation. They comprehend each other perfectly.

Riza has the second key, and they’re careful to show up separately, occasionally doubling back to make sure they aren’t being tailed. It would seem like paranoia if they hadn’t already been caught once. Or if their discovery wouldn’t potentially mean the end of Riza’s career, and the end of Roy’s dream.

Riza usually arrives before he does. She brings some food, puts on the radio, makes herself a drink, and by the time Roy shows up the place feels a little more lived in, almost like a real home. As he opens the door as though returning from work, she’s already waiting for him, watching the quiet alleyway below from one of the windows. When she turns to him with an open smile, he remembers suddenly why all the effort, all the secrecy is worth it. He crosses the room and scoops her into his arms, almost lifting her off the ground and when she laughs, it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

He takes advantage of her exposed neck and scatters kisses there, delighting in her playful protest. When Riza thumps him in the chest, he pulls away enough to raise an eyebrow, and these simple movements hold a detailed conversation.

She extracts herself from his arms, and in turn, Roy extracts a small bouquet from a bag he’s been carrying. The flowers are different each time, though usually beautiful and always carefully chosen. On this occasion, Roy presents Riza with a neat bunch of purple roses.

Another language of theirs: purple roses signify enchantment, love at first sight. The roll of Riza’s eyes says that he’s a sappy fool, but the quirk of her lips says she loves that about him.

And perhaps it _does_ make him sappy or frivolous. But flowers are so much a part of this routine by now, that just the smell of them reminds him of her, and it’s a promise of a pleasant evening and – if they’re lucky enough to have the time – an incredible night.

It isn’t just about the lovemaking, of course. If it was, perhaps the hotels would have been enough. Though they don’t admit it aloud (or even silently) the apartment is a slice of another life, where Captain Hawkeye and General Mustang can be Riza and Roy for a while, a different couple with no Ishval on their shoulders; no burns on her back. In the sanctuary of their secret home, they do normal, everyday things that other couples might take for granted. Listening to the radio, reading the paper, even just having a trivial, pointless conversation.

With late afternoon sun falling around them, they prepare food for their meal. She has the General peeling potatoes while she chops the vegetables. He doesn’t mind because he gets to stare at her as she concentrates, observing with interest the soft curve of her neck, the way the light plays in her newly-short blonde hair.

Roy knows that his life would lie in ruins if they were caught; fraternisation is strictly against the rules, even more so now that they’re higher in the ranks, and he would never again hold a position of authority over anybody. Besides, he knows he hasn’t earned these things yet. But Riza? Riza, who has followed him into hell, who has known so much fear and seen so much death, deserves at least this – this brief glimpse of domesticity; to just pretend they’re average members of the population for an afternoon. No life-threatening fights, no delicate politics, no hasty desperate trysts in dark closets, pinned against rough walls.

They kiss against the kitchen counter while the meal cooks, and it’s slow, comfortable. There’s no superior to breathe down Roy’s neck, no paperwork to demand Riza be elsewhere, and for once they can do things without rushing. _You’re wonderful,_ Roy’s lips take the time to explain with kisses that pepper her forehead, and Riza returns with _you’re my everything_ buried in his neck.

The meal is a simple affair, no candles or smart outfits or fancy decoration, just the two of them and an ordinary routine, as if they do this every day. While they eat, they talk only about things that don’t matter. A mishap with Black Hayate and a stray cat, Havoc’s latest string of dates, the ongoing issues with Roy’s neighbours.

Anything except work.

And afterwards, they make love at their leisure. The freedom, and the freedom to be loud, makes it twice as sweet, and Roy at least has no difficulty in making the most of it.

Later, lying tangled together in the bed –in _their_ bed – Roy is almost as close to content as he can get these days. Eventually, though, they will always have to return to the real world, and this time it’s Riza’s turn to go first. There’s an unspoken agreement (of course there is, there always is) that every meeting of this kind could be their last, and so without fail they part with smiles and gentle, lingering kisses.


End file.
